Rainy Days
by Broken Mirrors
Summary: [BradxSchu] Schuldig POV, collection of rainy days. One shot.


**Fandom: **Weiss Kreuz

**Title: **Rainy days

**Characters: **Schuldig, Crawford

**Rating: ** M

**Notes: **Written for a challenge in LJ. The keywords were Rosenkreuz/"come with me" and Rainy day.

**RAINY DAYS **

_Rosenkreuz_

You wait for him in the rain. The dark asphalt reflecting the ripples of your mind, covered with a layer of water, transparent but endless, ever changing. Your hair streams down to your cheeks, droplets of water dripping from the ends of the slowly curving locks.

Train wheezes past, the alley way is dark and lonely. It's been half an hour now. He said forty- no, exactly forty three minutes. You don't remember when he left, just that it's been around half an hour now. You can hear the buzz of thoughts far away, inside the building, at the street…

You wait. You believe in him, he will come back if he said so.

_Schuldig_

When you first met him, it rained. They had you in a mental cage, broken down and waiting for the bullet to the brain to come. You were ready for it. Wanted it. Nothing would be worse than the bending and pulling, breaking and raping.

They had dressed you to white straightjacket and your hair was hanging on your eyes so you could not see him properly. But you could hear him, whispering to your mind. Wisely, the monkeys of Rosenkreuz had their minds closed, hidden from you.

He didn't hide. He said he would show you how, and he would take you away. There was no pity; for pieces of your broken mind, remains of several rapes mental and not, brainwashes, mindlocks, he only nodded. But recognized your strength and when he let you free after he had received your leash, you didn't lash out on him.

Your kiss was cold, lips wet from rain droplets and eyes wild and demanding. But he still answered it; your amber sun pouring onto your very being so hot you couldn't remember that you had been cold just a moment before.

_Schwarz_

He never said it directly, never promised you anything. But you still believed him. Even if he wouldn't know the future after all, you wouldn't die alone. You're never alone and always alone in the crowd of your mind. 

You spit blood to the wet asphalt, press fingers to the broken wing of your brow. He stands under his umbrella and doesn't say a thing, just watches you. The rainwater soaks your clothes and washes away the blood from your face; you're cold.

Nothing really makes it better; you fucking hate people who kick you because they can. That's why you give them reasons to kick and beat you; every time someone makes you bleed because of what you have done, you feel a little better.

Later, when he fucks your broken face against the window, rain falling down on you but not touching you, he seems almost jealous. You don't know why. You left with him after all.

_SS_

The railing of the balcony is wet and cold under your touch, dripping of water as your fingers curl around it tightly. It's been years since you last felt this humiliated, your face bruised from the golf club and mind wandering into the storm that seems to be rising.

As the door to the balcony opens, the wind blows your hair over your eyes and before you can tug it behind your ears he's standing right behind you, hands curling around the railing, his thumb touching your pinky.

You shiver but can't seem to find your voice.

You know he won't lecture you, why would he when you already got worse punishment? But he's not here to comfort you either. Only the wry curve of your grin visible under the wet orange locks that stream over your brows as he nudges your thighs apart and you open up to him, mind and body, taking him in like you do for nobody else.

He stays so calm in the whirlwind of your thoughts, the hot fire of his presence defining your boarders, recreating you into his image. He shields you as well as fulfills you, with him there's always the blessed silence, even if you are screaming harder in it, even the fear is a welcome change.

---

_Crawford_

You don't realize the addiction before it's too late. The silence within him, the voices around him, too loud, you're not sure which more compelling.

The years after the crush down of SS you spent convincing yourself you had no choice but to stay with him. He had not freed you from Rosenkreuz completely. It still existed. You could not just walk away.

When he retreats into his mind after the fight is over, shields clamping down hard before you can do a thing, you find yourself finally alone. Rosenkreuz is again defeated, but it doesn't matter when he lies on the wet asphalt, glasses broken and suit wrinkled. You carried him here from the crumbling building, unconscious, bleeding. No energy left, you could only treat his wounds, which weren't anything serious. The deeper cuts are in his mind, where you can't reach. Not even if you knew how to heal it, which you don't. But you're the damn telepath. You could do _something_! If only he would have trusted you enough even in situation like this. But no, the bastard chose to keep you out still. 

He will come around eventually; he has to! You finally realize that you can't do it on your own. So there's no possibility for him to stay like this forever. You have seen psi-talented burn their minds while trying too hard. But that couldn't have happened to him. Not him.

_Wake up, you bastard!_ You keep broadcasting even if you know he can't hear you. How could he leave you here, taking care of both of you? You hate responsibility! You hate to think that everything will be up to you, hate it now that his future is hanging onto you also, just waiting for you to screw up again. Like you always do.

The rain falls down as you try to gather the pieces of your mind. This can't be it. You'll have to try harder, or die trying.


End file.
